


Colliding

by bluehawthorn



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Dwarf Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash, Smut, Sparring, Thwalin, Wall Sex, dworin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 19:36:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4150251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluehawthorn/pseuds/bluehawthorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of Moria, Thorin enlists Dwalin to help him release some of his stress and grief. It begins with sparring but soon turns into something else that Dwalin has dreamt about, quite literally, for a very long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colliding

**Author's Note:**

> Not mentioned but obviously worth picturing: Dwalin's epic hair at this point in Middle Earth history, as depicted in the movie flashbacks.

It has been two fortnights since the Battle of Moria and the dwarves have returned home, bruised and battered and far fewer in number. Dwalin has been busy, as they all have been, each day filled with seeing to the wounded, the families of the dead, the funeral rites. 

And of course everything has been in chaos after the loss of their king.

Despite little time to think about much else than each task at hand, Dwalin has found himself worried about his prince. It is the kind of worry that gnaws on the mind and churns in the belly. 

He has seen Thorin very little since their return and almost always from a distance. Any time he had gotten close to the prince - who people were now calling Thorin Oakenshield after his victory over Azog the Defiler - he had been promptly dragged away by a council member or someone else who needed his attention.

Balin has reassured him that the prince is holding up well under the circumstances, but Dwalin is unconvinced. He needs to know for himself. Today he awoke unable to stand it anymore, and he resolved to find Thorin whatever it took.

It takes until well after dusk. Dwalin comes across Thorin standing alone in the shadows of the inner courtyard, leaning against a wall and looking blankly off into the distance. He approaches his friend carefully so as not to startle him. "Thorin? My prince?"

Thorin's gaze focuses and he turns to Dwalin slowly. As he makes eye contact his lips curve into a small smile, although the rest of his face is drawn and pale.

Dwalin ducks his head as he gets closer, suddenly feeling shy. Emotions are not his strong suit. He is much better at violence. But he tries anyways, asking quietly, "How are you, my lord?"

Thorin's face loses expression again, and he only manages,"I am..." before trailing off. Then he seems to gather himself. "I am not sure what I am, old friend."

Dwalin shifts in place, even more awkward now. "Is there, uh, anything I can do?"

Thorin smiles that sad smile again and seems to consider the offer. After a moment his face brightens just the smallest measure. "Perhaps there is something. I have been cooped up for so long in meeting after meeting. Perhaps we could visit the sparring rooms? I could use some...release."

Dwalin breathes a sigh of relief. Now this is something he _is _good at. Along with training together regularly, he and Thorin have often sparred when the prince needed to work out the tensions of his royal duties. Perhaps it would also help him with his grief and the burden of his new responsibilities in the absence of the king.__

"Aye, of course. We'll have them to ourselves this time of night."

Thorin straightens from where he is leaning, his movements no less fluid and strong despite what he has been through. Together they walk the short distance to the underground rooms where the dwarves hone their battle skills. 

They enter side by side after Dwalin unhooks a torch from the hallway so that he can light the ones within. Once the room is lit with a warm flickering light, they both remove their coats and boots, and stand to face each other barefoot on the mats, each of them just in tunic and trousers. 

Thorin already looks more like himself, here in this place where the two of them have spent countless hours practicing with sword and axe and fists. His face takes on a fierce look of seriousness and concentration that Dwalin has seen hundreds of times before. 

Although perhaps it is a bit more fierce and a bit more serious than usual tonight. With all that has happened, how could it not be?

They square off for a moment, and then Thorin growls “Do not hold back.” And just like that he is lunging at him, his fists making contact with Dwalin’s ribs. Dwalin grunts and jumps away from the next hit. 

Thorin is on him again in seconds and Dwalin feels himself mostly on the defensive, parrying blows, blocking kicks, twisting away before Thorin can shove or trip him. He is pushed back to the edge of the mat, and finally Thorin gives him room to breathe. He steps back a few paces and takes up a fighter’s crouch, gesturing Dwalin toward him.

Dwalin comes in roaring and swinging this time. He and Thorin are pretty well matched for strength, but his greater height usually gives him a slight advantage that Thorin's greater skill can only sometimes equalize. But Thorin is too fast for that tonight.

Before Dwalin can even land a single blow, Thorin feints to the side, dances back a few steps and then charges at Dwalin, knocking into his stomach with his broad shoulders and lifting him off his feet with the force of it. 

Once more Dwalin is pushed to the edge of the mat and Thorin gives him only a moment’s quarter before he comes at him again. 

He has just enough time to register that he is going to be sore later as Thorin pummels him in the torso. Not that Dwalin minds of course. Thorin knows that he can take it. He would never wilfully injure him beyond what can be expected in sparring. They know each others' limits well.

But Dwalin is beginning to feel the desperation in Thorin's assault, the last weeks of grief and horror all being channeled in this ferocious onslaught. Thorin's face is twisting into a grimace as he continues to come at him, all his pain written there. 

Dwalin's heart clenches to see it and suddenly he can no longer make himself fight back. His fists fall to his sides and he simply lets Thorin punch him, grunting as each one lands.

This only makes Thorin escalate. 

“Fight me!” Thorin yells, raining blows. Dwalin just stands and takes them.“I said fight me!” Thorin shoves him. Dwalin just shakes his head. He cannot spar with his prince when he is in this much pain. 

Thorin pushes him again. When he still does not fight back, Thorin launches himself at him, carrying them both to the ground. Thorin grapples with him, and Dwalin instinctively tries to protect himself while also trying to remain passive. 

Thorin is on top of him, breathing heavy. He seems to be losing steam, his voice cracking with emotion. "Dwalin. I need you to fight me. Please...You have to fight me...fight me or fuck me...I need something...I can't feel all this." 

And with that he leans down and with the same desperation as he was hitting him only moments ago, kisses Dwalin. Dwalin feels himself freeze in shock.

And then the blood is pounding through him and he is fisting one hand in Thorin's hair and the other is around the back of his neck and he is pulling his prince down against his mouth while he pushes up into the kiss. 

They are colliding against one another, tongues and teeth clashing. The press of Thorin's weight on him is heavy and insistent, the movement of his hips demanding and hungry. He breaks away from Dwalin's mouth only to nip at his ear. Dwalin runs his hands roughly over Thorin's back and arms. 

For a moment he thinks that perhaps he is taking advantage of Thorin in his grief, that maybe he should stop. But then Thorin is fumbling with his trousers and his hand is around Dwalin's cock.

Dwalin has dreamt of this since they were both striplings, waking up sweaty and twisted in his blankets and achingly hard. As he is now, wrapped in the agonizing friction of Thorin's palm.

Thorin is too purposeful a creature to be stopped right now anyways. His leans over Dwalin with a look of pure intensity and he is kneading at Dwalin's cock with a focused intent. Before he can help it, Dwalin is groaning and thrusting himself into Thorin's grip. 

He can hardly think, but he manages to get his hand passed the waistband of Thorin's trousers and then Thorin's cock is hot and throbbing in his own hand. 

They ride against each other, the pleasure building until Dwalin loses all focus and his whole world becomes the feel of Thorin on top of him and the grasp and slide of his hand. 

This goes on for quite some time and Dwalin comes close to the edge. Then Thorin's hand slows and he pulls away. 

"I want you to take me," he says slowly. "Will you do that for me Dwalin?"

All Dwalin can do is swallow hard and nod his head. 

They both withdraw their hands. Thorin stands and goes to the side of the room where the weapons are kept, returning with a small tin of the grease used to maintain leather scabbards. He hands it to Dwalin and peels out of his clothing, his eyes commanding his friend to follow him as he walks to the back wall of the room. 

Dwalin follows a moment later, shucking off his clothes as he goes. 

Thorin puts his hands on the wall and Dwalin comes up behind him. He lays the length of his body against Thorin's, moaning already with just this small contact.

"Prepare me. I want you to fuck me fast and hard," Thorin growls, his voice husky. "Make me forget."

Dwalin feels a wave of lust and nerves, mixed with disbelief that an heir of Durin would choose him in this way. That _Thorin _would choose him in this way, the dwarf to whom he has pledged his fealty. It is such an overwhelming mix of feelings that it dizzies him. This whole encounter feels surreal and he struggles to be present, calling on his warrior's training to ground him.__

He takes a deep breath, shaking it off and returning his attention to Thorin. He will do whatever his prince asks and if this is how he can be of service to him, he is more than willing. He needs to ask however. "Are you sure?"

"Yes Dwalin," Thorin answers. "Do it. Now."

Offered a direct order his training kicks in. He obeys. 

He reaches down and spreads Thorin's legs with his hand. He coats the grease over his fingers and into Thorin's cleft. 

Thorin exhales quickly as one of Dwalin's fingers pushes against and through his ring of muscle. The inside of Thorin's body is almost unfathomably hot and tight. Dwalin's breath catches in anticipation.

He is gentle, but does not spend a lot of time opening Thorin. He can feel the other dwarf's impatience and knows that Thorin is strong enough to take some discomfort. When he can fit two fingers inside and Thorin leans into his hand, he withdraws his fingers and positions himself, the head of his cock ready to penetrate in their place.

He hesitates for just a moment, again overwhelmed with what he is about to do. It feels strange not to be offering himself instead. Thorin has been clear about what he wants though and he supposed there is time enough for that later.

Thorin grits out "Get on with it, Dwalin."

And so Dwalin pushes forward, breaching Thorin with his cock. All the breath leaves him in a hiss as he is squeezed inside the heat and pressure of his prince's body. Thorin groans and the sound of it makes Dwalin feel as though he may come already. He takes a deep breath and steadies himself.

The entry into Thorin's body is easier than he imagined. He works himself in and Thorin bucks back, urging him deeper. 

He restrains himself, trying to give Thorin time to adjust, but Thorin orders him, "Harder." And so Dwalin snaps his hips forward harder. 

Thorin breathes "Yes," and it inflames Dwalin passed all holding back. Soon Dwalin is slamming into Thorin, and Thorin is flexing back into him after each thrust knocks him forward. They are both grunting with the force of it.

Thorin holds himself away from the wall, his hands splayed and the muscles in his forearms cording as Dwalin fucks him. One of Dwalin's arms wraps around Thorin's ribs and across his chest while the other moves aside Thorin's great mane of hair so that he can bite and suck at his neck, and stifle the sounds of his moans there.

Thorin is breathing hard, his head tilting forward toward the floor. They are both covered in a sheen of sweat. 

There is something bestial about it but it is also somehow beautiful. It is like they have been transported away from all the ugliness of the past few weeks and it is just the two of them here, in this room, and nothing else exists. He can tell that Thorin feels it too. 

He reaches around to stroke Thorin's cock and the sounds Thorin make lodge directly in Dwalin's belly, making something inside him expand. He bends his knees to change the angle, varying his rhythm with shorter deeper thrusts that make Thorin cry out and reach behind him to pull Dwalin forward even harder. 

The pleasure is nearly unbearable. Dwalin has never experienced this with someone he cares for as much; certainly not someone he is so entirely devoted to and has harboured an attraction to for so long. Everyone else he's fancied he has fucked and been done with it. With Thorin he never felt brave enough to risk revealing his desire. 

And now here they are. Thorin against the wall. Dwalin _inside _him.__

The heat pooling in Dwalin's cock is spreading into his pelvis and thighs, up across his stomach and chest, through his limbs. "Thorin," he chokes, his spine bending around the intensity of the sensation. "I don't think I can last much longer."

"I am almost there too. Just keep fucking me."

And so Dwalin lets go, driving his cock in and out of Thorin and stroking him with his hand at an increasing pace, giving everything he's got. Then suddenly he feels release welling up in the prince. Thorin's cock begins to pulse and a warm sticky fluid flows over his hand as Thorin shouts in Khudzul and tightens around him. 

With that, Dwalin succumbs. He pounds into Thorin a few last times as an orgasm like nothing he has ever experienced before roars through him, obliterating all sense of time and place. He bellows loudly and fills his prince in spurts that wrack his whole body.

When he has stopped spasming, he drapes himself over Thorin, who remains bracing himself against the wall. Both of their chests are heaving. Once they catch their breath Dwalin takes more of his own weight and Thorin comes to standing and then moves to pull on his trousers. 

"Thank you Dwalin."

"Thank _you _, my lord."__

Thorin chuckles. The gravity of sadness seems far less on his face and in the way he holds himself. "Do not 'my lord' me after what just happened and all we have been through." 

He walks over to Dwalin and pulls his head down so that their foreheads touch. "I mean it. Thank you." Dwalin feels both incredibly pleased and somewhat bashful again. He clears his throat. "Y'er welcome, Thorin."

Thorin clasps him in a quick chest-to-chest, full-strength hug and then releases him. Dwalin finds his clothes and they both get dressed.

Thorin stretches his arms out over his head. "I truly do feel much better. Perhaps we should spar again sometime soon. I could make room in my schedule." There is a question in his voice, but it is a small one. Dwalin suspects that Thorin has always known how he really feels.

"I'm up for it whenever you are," replies Dwalin, trying to sound casual and gruff as a thrill runs through him at the promise of more. 

Thorin chucks him on the shoulder. "You fuck like you fight, my friend."

Dwalin frowns, not sure this is a good thing. Thorin sees his response and says quickly, "You have great skill at both. Now, let us find our beds for the night before someone seeks me out for some boring, insufferable business. I feel like I could get the first good sleep I have had in months tonight and I will not let anyone stop me." 

Dwalin smiles and inclines his head in agreement. They turn to go, Thorin snuffing out the torches on one side of the room and Dwalin the other before they walk out together into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the characters, setting or plot from the Hobbit.
> 
> Comments very welcomed and appreciated.


End file.
